


Natural Disasters

by CaseyStar



Series: Summer Pornathon 2014 [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Wakes & Funerals, canon character death, happy-ish ending, mentioned Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2232114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months ago, broken hearted at feeling unwanted by Arthur, Merlin walked away, the hardest thing he's evver done.  Then a phone call from Morgana throws him back into Arthur's orbit, and it seems they've some things they shoul have spoken about before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Disasters

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge 6 of the Pornathon - Cycles.
> 
> So this piece is part cycle of life - Uther's death, and part Merlin needing to change the cycle of his relationship with Arthur.
> 
> To make this fic fit the word count - as it ended up about 4k and limit was 750, I had to heavily edit the piece. I prefer the long version but if anyone wants to read the shorter one, I'll post that version as a second chapter.
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

Gwaine held the phone out as Merlin came through the door.

“Who?” Merlin whispered, hanging his coat up.

“Dunno. Girl.” Gwaine was distracted by his Wii, waving the phones more insistently.

“Freya?” Merlin asked, dropping into the sofa, kicking Gwaine when he restarted his game, loud gunfire causing Merlin to stick his finger in one ear to try and hear the phone, frowning at Gwaine, his shameless friend ignoring him.

 _“’Fraid not,_ ” the oh-so-familiar, exhausted voice answered. _“How’re you Merlin?”_

The phone case creaked in Merlin’s grip, jaw clenching tight

“Since your brother broke my heart? Again?” He couldn’t help himself from snapping through gritted teeth, Gwaine noisily dying on screen as his attention turned to Merlin, frowning. Shaking his head, Merlin scrubbed his hand through his hair, a faint blush pinking his cheeks in shame; whatever had happened between himself and Arthur was not Morgana’s fault.

“Sorry Morgana, that wasn’t…I’m so sorry. I’m fine. You?” 

He’d not heard from Morgana in a while, though he’d not taken it personally, sure that she’d retreated in order to not be placed in the middle between her friend and her brother as their relationship imploded. Morgana had always been sweet to him, a staunch supporter of his relationship with Arthur, even running interference between them and Uther, incurring his wrath upon herself.

_“Not great: Uther died this morning.”_

Merlin’s chest clenched at the sound of her pain, the waver in her voice. Morgana’s relationship with the biological father she’d only learnt of in her teens was- had been tempestuous. As had his own, leading to so many problems with Arthur. But despite the undertone of antagonism, Morgana had loved her father and Merlin himself knew the pain of loss. 

“I’m so sorry, Morgs,” Merlin offered sincerely; Merlin had not known his father long before he’d died in Merlin’s arms in a car accident but it had torn him apart, unsure how to put himself back together when the pieces no longer fit

“You okay?” Merlin asked, unable to contemplate what that meant.

_“Gwen’s here, she’s been a great comfort._ ” Merlin couldn’t help a small smile. Gwen’s placid, gentle nature could smooth even the worst of moods, could chide and encourage someone to eat or shower when all they wanted was to curl under blankets and scream or cry. Her patience seemed never-ending, her very presence soothing, even when she sat in silence with you. 

“Um, how’s Arthur?” He asked before he could stop himself. 

_“How’s he ever?”_ Morgana laughed an ugly, hollow sound. 

“ _He’s been organising everything, controlled, calculated…he’s so calm and I can’t-”_ Merlin clenched his jaw against tears to here Morgana sob, the composed woman rarely falling into tears. _“He’s going to break, Merlin and I can’t stop it or put him together. I’ve no right to ask, and I know how it ended and Uther was a huge part, and Arthur’ll kill me for this-”_

“When and where?” Merlin dug his notebook and pen from his backpack. 

“I’ll be there,” Merlin promised as he scribbled the information she gave him. 

_“He needs you. Don’t think he even knows it, but he does.”_

_Muffled voices interrupted. _“Sorry, I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you Thursday.”_ _

And just like that, Merlin was left with a dial tone, an address and a best friend desperate for answers. 

__**_ _

He wanted to be on time for once in his life, wanted to be able to slip unnoticed into the church before the Pendragons arrived but he’d already stopped the car twice to dry-heave, and almost talked himself into turning around four times. Things had ended in a fire-ball with Arthur,  
Merlin’s heart torn to shreds when Arthur had chosen his father’s wishes once again over his own, squiring a business partner’s daughter around town and to functions, appearing the perfect, straight man that Uther had always expected of his son, neglecting Merlin, trivialising Merlin’s pain at seeing Arthur deny who he was, deny Merlin. As much as Merlin didn’t want to see him, he couldn’t be there on Arthur’s worst day. 

Despite being an unfeeling tyrant in his later years, the church was packed, Merlin recognising a scant few as he slipped inside, the scent of incense and wood polish overwhelming, clashing with the flowers atop the altar. There were hushed conversations between groups of people who knew each other, many turning to watch him as he looked for a place to sit, many overtly glowering at him as they rememberd who he was,  
noses crinkling as they hissed to their friends on different pews, drawing their attention to the newcomer. 

It felt oddly like a cafeteria in school, Merlin feeling unwelcome and out of place, like he’d been weighed and measured based on his looks and clothes and deemed wanting by the other kids, left to find a spot behind the science building to eat lunch in piece. The knot in his stomach tightened, bile rising in his throat as he wanted to flee, flee the prying eyes and whispered hisses of recognition, of being out of place and _‘that’_ boy. 

Finding a space midway down the aisle, he slid onto the pew, trying to avoid the looks, and the way several groups had spread out on their pews, taking up extra space so he couldn’t sit there, ignoring the way the lady he sat next to leant subtly away from him.  
They may be bejewelled and bedecked in their finery, they may be in their later decades of life, but the people filling this church hadn’t changed a whit from school. 

Merlin focused on the altar, admiring the stained glassed windows and the way they captured the light. He’d never been religious but he’d had great respect and awe for the sort of faith that it must require to build such a beautiful building, lost in the detailed vault ceiling, as he heard the convoy draw up at the steps, the entire gathering rising to their feet in a shuffle of shoes and bags. 

Morgana looked pale, exhausted but composed, head high as she walked the aisle before her father’s casket but Arthur… 

Arthur looked like shit. His shoulders, so strong that Merlin’d always thought they could hold the world, were bowed as he and the other pallbearers lowered the coffin before the altar, his eyes bruised-looking, face gaunt but it was his determined, harsh expression that worried Merlin most. 

The whole service Merlin stared at Arthur who stared straight ahead, and to Merlin’s surprise wasn’t giving the eulogy, Gaius taking the pulpit instead, the elderly man shooting concerned glances of his own to Arthur, frowning as he recounted Uther’s life, his early charity work, the love he had for Ygraine, his pride in his son, and Merlin was sure he saw Arthur flinch at that, muscle in his jaw flexing. 

There were muffled sobs from the crowd, husbands patting their wives hands as they openly wept in mourning of the man they’d lost. Morgana and Arthur shed not a tear, though Merlin swore he saw Morgana lean more heavily on Gwen, cradling one of Arthur’s hands in her lap, though her brother appeared not to notice her touch. 

Finally it was over, Morgana leading the procession, finding Merlin in the crowd, her tiny smile and grateful nod loosening some of the knot in his stomach, Gwen’s expression brightening when she followed Morgana’s gaze, making an almost imperceptible wave towards him, fingers barely moving but Merlin caught it, her joy at seeing him warming him. She glanced between Merlin and Arthur and back again, a question clear in her eyes, and Merlin had no answer for her, shrugging and shaking his head. 

Arthur appeared to notice no one. 

** 

Arthur was surrounded by Uther’s colleagues at the wake when Merlin arrived, nodding to a couple people; he needed to be there to support Morgana and Arthur but he didn’t want to talk to anyone else, or make nauseating small talk with Uther’s friends who knew him as the _‘boy who led Arthur astray’_ , so as with most gatherings he gravitated to the kitchen, chased out by the caterers after grabbing a glass of wine, to loiter in a hallway, generations of Pendragons staring accusingly from their lofty canvases, as he surreptitiously watched Arthur. 

“You came,” Morgana’s voice was soft, up close her eyes red-rimmed though no tears fell, her head tucking close under his chin as she stepped into his embrace. Gwen smiled at him, the grief in her eyes all for her friend; Uther had disapproved of their friendship almost as much as he had railed against Arthur’s relationship with Merlin, appalled at his daughter being friends with the poor _‘coloured’_ girl. Morgana, however, had never been so swayed by Uther’s wants as Arthur. 

“For what good it’ll do.” Merlin jerked his chin in Arthur’s direction. 

“He knows you’re here.” 

“Does he?” Arthur hadn’t glanced his way once, he was sure. 

“You think he seems bad now, you should have seen him this week. I don’t think I’ve seen him wat in days, and unless it was a phone call to colleagues or to organise the funeral, he’s not spoken to anyone. Since he got to the church, he seems…lighter.” 

Morgana was right, Merlin thought, he _should_ have been there, should have been there with Arthur to shoulder some of the grief, to provide a gentle place for Arthur to land when he finally crashed. 

“She’s right,” Gwen chimed in, “he’s been different. He’s-” Gwen shrugged as she struggled to find the right descriptor, shaking her head. Leaning forward she pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek, whispering in his ear. 

“You’ve always been at his side. If anyone can help him, Merls, it’ll be you.” 

“I’ll try,” he replied, dropping kiss into her soft hair as she cuddled close to Morgana in his arms, the pair clearly grateful for the quiet respite from their guests, the blowhards in the living room only bearable in small doses, as Merlin well knew. 

Something over Merlin’s shoulder caught Gwen’s attention and she shot a concerned glance at Merlin. 

“Um, Merlin, you might, well, um, he’s-” 

“Merlin.” Arthur sounded destroyed, raw, looking like he’d aged a decade since last Merlin had seem him. Like Morgana, Arthur’s grief was writ across his face up-close, his eyes so bruised he looked like he’d been in a fight, skin clammy, a pallor Merlin had never seen as Arthur stepped closer to Merlin he seemed weighed down by the weight of the world, those broad shoulders folding in, Arthur seeming so small, delicate in a way Merlin had never seen. 

Morgana slid from Merlin’s hold, she and Gwen melting away into the crowd, and unable to help himself, Merlin reached out and gathered Arthur into his arms, resting his forehead on Arthur’s, concerned at the tremble in the body pressed against his own, Arthur running on empty, exhaustion and grief soon to overwhelm him. 

“You’re here.” Arthur’s scent washed over Merlin, missed and so dear, the waver in Arthur’s voice ripping open a wound in Merlin that was barely healed. Arthur sounded so unsure, as if he never thought Merlin would come for him, come to care for him. 

“Get me out of here.” 

“Ar-” 

“I can’t stay here, all these people trying to _comfort_ me, all the lies of the great man my father was.” 

“Yo-” 

_“Please.”_

** 

“Have you slept?” Merlin asked, closing the front door of his small studio flat, tossing his suit jacket aside, unbuttoning the cuffs nervously, needing something to do. The thirty minute drive from Uther’s had been made in silence, the radio off, Merlin staring at the blacktop, but he could see from the corner of his eye that Arthur turned to look at him again and again. 

“Too much to do,” Arthur shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it onto a chair as he paced the small space after removing his shoes, wall to wall and turn, wall to wall and turn, not looking at Merlin a he moved. It hurt Merlin to watch him; gone was the normal confident stride as Arthur worked out his tension, in its place short, choppy steps, fingers twisting and fiddling with the ring on Arthur’s left hand. 

“People would’ve helped.” 

“Like you?” Arthur jeered, eyes wide in shock at what he’d said. “I’m sorry, that-” 

“No, you’re right. I _should_ have been here. I should have been there for you.” 

“Why are you here now?” Arthur’s tone was vulnerable, exhausted and confused. 

“For you.” 

“But _why?”_ Arthur pleaded. “After what I did, why would you want to-” 

“I love you,” Merlin stated baldly and Arthur crumpled, collapsing to Merlin’s bed, strings cut. 

“Why?” 

Merlin winced, taking a deep breath, stomach in knots. 

“You’ve had a shit week Arthur, this can wai-” 

“Talking this out, like we’ve always failed to do, is hardly going to make the week _my father died_ any worse, Merlin.” 

Merlin almost laughed from sheer nerves from the joy of hearing the old Arthur, hearing the commanding tone. 

Merlin conceded the point. 

“All right,” The knot in his chest tightened, desperate for a drink but sure he’d not keep it down for long Hitching up onto his desk, he stared at the floor; how long had it been since he hovered? He really should do that. “But uh, you want me to stop and-” 

“Merlin, get on with it” Arthur prompted, his tone harsh but Merlin could hear it was borne more of exhaustion than anger. 

“It was never a lack of love,” Merlin admitted, arms crossing against his chest, hugging his stomach a little, “it was the lying, the secrecy, oppressive disapproval of Uth-” It didn’t do to speak ill of the dead. 

“I thought of you always, loathing myself for how I took you for granted.” 

Merlin frowned. “What?” 

Arthur heaved a sigh, scuffing one pristine loafer against the other. “I knew you’d always be there for me; when I neglected you for work; when I attended father’s functions; when I entertained women on my arm at company functions…I assumed you’d always be waiting for me.” 

“It made me feel that you were taking advantage, that I was a manservant not a lover, picking up after you, watching you dance with the chosen princess of the week, left with what crumbs of time you had for me. I shouldn’t have acted my anger out the way I did, shouldn’t have let it build up so much. I just felt so dirty, like you were ashamed of me, of us. 

On the bed, Arthur’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Fuck,” he breathed, distraught, eyes closing as he hung his head in shame. 

“Yeah.” 

“I never meant-” 

“I know. I know that now.” 

“I,” Arthur shook his head, hands clenching on his thighs, eyes flitting around the room, landing anywhere but on Merlin. “I just wanted to please everyone but made us miserable and father ecstatic.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“So am I. We did what we always do instead of working it out; we fought, we fucked, we moved on and I ran because I couldn’t ride that merry-go-round again. It was easier to blame you and try to hate you.”

“I _‘made it impossible to stay and retain self-respect.”_ Arthur rubbed his forehead, resting it in splayed fingers. 

Wincing Merlin apologised, “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“I shouldn’t have put you in the positon where you felt it was true.” 

“We both said a lot of things,” Arthur retorted. 

“But only I walked away.” 

Arthur nodded, wry, as his hands flexed, frowning at Merlin before his expression cleared, staring in silence, waiting for Merlin to continue. 

“Walking away from you nearly killed me, but I thought it’d hurt less than staying. This wasn’t all you, or even all Uther, and I’d give anything to fix-” 

“You’d want to try?” The uncertain hope in Arthur’s eyes was humbling, the way he leant a little towards Merlin, as though to reach out for him gave Merlin courage. 

“I’ve never not loved you. Even when I hated you I missed you and I’d rather be with you in secret than broken without you.” 

Arthur beckoned Merlin over, patting the mattress beside him. 

Merlin stood on legs weak from nerves, hesitant but unable to stop, fearful of rejection, terrified of acceptance, utterly unprepared for Arthur to reach out and tug him between his legs, blond head resting on his stomach, Merlin curling protectively over his shoulders, feeling the fine tremble of exhaustion and grief, how hard Arthur was fighting to keep control. Merlin ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, hoping to calm and comfort him. 

“Help me fix us,” Arthur pleaded. “Never my secret, scream it from the rooftops, _please_. 

“Please, Merlin, please…please.” Though muffled, Arthur’s intent was clear, desperate hands scrabbling to pull the shirt from Merlin’s trousers, hot palms skittering over Merlin’s skin as they stroked up his back, tickling over ribs to cup a curve of pectoral, the tightening buds of nipples and down, down to the buckle. 

Anxious to inject some sanity, Merlin tried to draw back. “We shouldn’t,” he gasped, back arching into Arthur’s touch, his body begging for it after so long without, refuting his assertion. “Shouldn’t make decisions in grief.” 

Arthur scowled, tugging him closer again, strong arms encasing him, inescapable as though Arthur were afraid he’d run again. He’d done that, Merlin thought, he’d made the fearless man afraid. 

“Wanted you back, needed you back since you left me.” 

Sure Merlin wouldn’t pull away again, Arthur’s hands roamed his back, sliding back under his shirt, feeling Merlin’s ribs that he swore were more prominent than months earlier, self-loathing clenching his heart; he’d caused that hurt. 

“I’ll make it up to you. I swear I will. I want to love you, stay with you, _marry you_ …” 

Merlin couldn’t help his sob, blinking back tears as his knees collapsed, Arthur stopping his fall by tugging him forwards atop him, legs hanging off the bed. 

Shifting, the pair lay on their sides facing each other, Arthur’s large palm cradling Merlin’s skull, urging him to look up, to meet Arthur’s unblinking stare. 

“I love you.” 

Merlin couldn’t speak, barely able to breathe, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, feeling his face flush under the scrutiny, rolling into Arthur to hide his face in the crook of his neck, still half sure they should put this on ice, that Arthur should sleep, get some rest, not make this decision exhausted and grieving, terrified it would all fade into a dream tomorrow. 

But it’s delightful, their bodies pressing along every inch, Arthur tugging him atop him, Merlin’s thighs splaying open to straddle Arthur’s hips, bracing his weight on one hand, the other tangling in Arthur’s hair to hold his head still to take his mouth in a possessive kiss, unrestrained as he gave himself over to the horrific idea it was, grunting as they rutted together, control shattered as hips rolled and teeth clashed. 

Cursing his need to breathe, Merlin tore his mouth free, arms trembling, Arthur smirking before rolling them, their legs tangling in the sheets. 

“Need you, so much,” Arthur whimpered. “So long since you touched me.” Wrenching himself from Merlin’s hold, Arthur sat up, ripping his tie off and tugging his shirt off, muscled chest leaner than Merlin remembered, the crests of his hips starker as Merlin’s hands trailed over the soft skin. 

Fumbling, Merlin tore at his own shirt, drunk on the feel of Arthur’s weight on him again, fighting with the buttons to get his skin against Arthur’s, finally tearing it apart as he leant up for a kiss, Arthur’s chest hair rasping against his nipples. 

“Off,” Arthur growled, tugging at Merlin’s belt, scrabbling at his own in the small space between them, Merlin batting his hand away to mould his own around the hard cock pressing against the zipper, teasing the head to hear Arthur grunt and thrust into his hold, Merlin’s mouth watering with want to swallow down that thick cock, the zipper purring as he helped Arthur strip them off, shucking his own. 

Clothes gone, Arthur pulled Merlin into his arms. It didn’t seem to matter they’d been apart for months; they moved together as easy as breathing, arms and legs wrapping around each other. 

It was so familiar and yet so new, bodies and minds altered by grief and broken hearts, their movements lacking finesse as they became frenzied, rutting against one another, cocks slipping and sliding against each other, riding slick skin and coarse hair, frissons of pleasure chasing up their spines. 

Arthur’s skin tasted the same as Merlin remembered, nipping along his jaw, stubble buzzing his lips before he suckled Arthur’s earlobe. 

“Ah!” Arthur’s moan was so sweet, sinking into that hollow pit behind Merlin’s ribs that had gnawed at him since he’d walked away from his love, and Merlin rewarded him by kissing him deeply, tongue laden with all the words he didn’t know how to say, brushing them onto Arthur’s tongue and lips, grateful to have them swallowed away. 

Sometimes it was so much easier to speak with their bodies but that was how they’d gotten so broken. 

“I’ll always come for you when you need me,” Merlin vowed, feeling Arthur shudder atop him, and he promised to keep saying it until Arthur believed it, that he could rely on Merlin. “Never stopped loving you. Felt so lonely, needed to know you loved me too.” 

Arthur’s fingers dug into Merlin’s hips, pressing closer to him as though Merlin would disappear, that it’d be a dream and he buried his face in Merlin’s chest with a whimper. 

“Merlin,” he whined, biting down on a tight nipple, “Merlin, fuck me.” 

With Arthur heavy on him, with his cock leaving trails of pre-come along Arthur’s stomach and the salty taste of his skin on his tongue, the thought of prepping Arthur open with teasing licks and sucking kisses to his hole had him crying out, cock jerking as his hips stuttered and he spilt between their bellies. All he could feel and taste and smell was Arthur, the realities of the world non-existence. 

Arthur came whining Merlin’s name between promises to be better, that it’d be better this time, he’d never hurt Merlin again, clutching him close.  
Arthur collapsed, crushing the breath from Merlin’s lungs, exhaustedly shifting them, flailing for the sheets as the curled around each other while they caught their breath and traded gentle kisses. 

“I told him, you know,” Arthur whispered into the dark, clinging to Merlin. “Told him I was gonna win you back. Begging on my knees if necessary.” 

“Maybe that’s what did him in, a Pendragon man on his knees.” Arthur’s chest rumbled with a mirthless laugh, breaking Merlin’s heart anew. “He always did say he’d _allow_ me to be gay over his dead bod-” 

Arthur’s voice cracked, a sob escaping him and beneath Merlin’s head, his chest heaved; he’d known it was coming. 

Merlin wrapped himself around his lover, pressing their foreheads together, crooning nonsense to Arthur. 

The tears flowed. 


End file.
